


nail in the coffin

by my_dear_man



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drugs, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Victorian, holmes/watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_dear_man/pseuds/my_dear_man
Summary: A drunk army doctor has an evening chat with a consulting detective who is well aware he is high on his beloved drugs.





	

"Why is it that I must succumb myself to a vial and a needle, Watson? Rolling my sleeves up high, revealing the same old marks, and finally indulging its blissful effects once the poisonous liquid is in my bloodstream. Cocaine. Morphine. Why is it that I must yield to my old habits, once a case is settled and done?"

Those were the words of my dear companion that I can faintly recall on that one cold November night. I sat awkwardly on my armchair next to the blazing fireplace, my legs sprawled wide with my back slouched against the soft cushion. My left arm lazily supported my tilted head while the other held a glass of wine. The very posture in which I sat would most definitely resulted with a scold from Mrs. Hudson if she were to set foot in our room.

My listless eyes gazed at Holmes who sat across from me in his faithful armchair, in his drug induced state. His figure was thin and limp from the lack of food he consumed from these past few days. Days on end he would eventually started starving himself and at one point I had to play the role of a stern mother, scolding her son for missing every single meal at the dinner table. His stormy grey eyes stared at me, his question still left hanging in the air.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose for I was completely drunk from the hours of drinking and a good round of cards and billiards with my fellow friends at the club, left my head awfully sluggish and my cheeks tinged pink from the alcohol.

"You once told me about that before, Holmes." I groaned. I rubbed my face and tried my hardest to ignore the throbbing I felt in my head.

"About what exactly?" His brows scrunched up in confusion which was one of his rare expressions.

"You told me once before why you let yourself fall towards this unhealthy hobby. You detest the mundane way of ordinary life and abhor idleness for which it tires you tremendously. You are in need of complicated mysteries and puzzles so you turn to drugs when cases fail to show up on our doorstep."

I took a sip of my wine before I continued my narrative.

"Why, can't you remember your own purpose for taking these wretched concoctions, my friend?" Those words tumbled clumsily out of my lips and I straighted my back to await Holmes witty response as I lift the glass to my lips for another sip.

"In this state, I can hardly deduce which club you've been this time and how much you've lost or gained in cards, I cannot tell."

I smirked at that very thought but Holmes was quick to make his remark on that statement.

"That doesn't mean I cannot deduce how absurdly drunk you are. Honestly, I still can not fathom how you are still able to form sentences at this stage." He snapped, his hand waved in such a dramatic way that I had to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, it might have been obvious to you by now, Holmes." This time he glared at me but fortunately, his tense face softens when he came to a petty conclusion.

"Mary and overwork."

"Spot on." I cheered half mockingly as I raised my glass to make a toast to Holmes's wonderful deduction.

Holmes was quiet when his lips uttered the name of my late wife. His long fingers fiddled with the needle that he held and his eyes stared vacant at his night slippers. I assumed that he thought I was offended from his words but that was far from the truth. I could never be bitter at my faithful companion for something that was never his fault to begin with. My little Marry is in a better place. Somewhere safe and happy, is what I would pray to her almost every day. For every day, my heart would ache for her and eventually the piles of work I faced at Bart's Hospital did so little to heal me. So, I turn to my own remedies.

The silence stretched for far too long, even for the likes of me who enjoy quiet mornings at the breakfast table with my morning paper. I touched his knee and gave a reassuring smile to break him from his train of thoughts. "You've not hurt me, old friend. Please don't dwell on that matter."

Sherlock Holmes smiled bitterly, his eyes were now fixed on me but I could tell he was still bothered by something. "Holmes." I said his name in a somewhat melancholic fashion that it even surprised myself rather than him.

"I envy you."

"Haven't you made it clear in your stories already, Watson? You praise me awfully too much about my methods, my intellect, my strength and the list should go on even longer as the years crawl by with you by my side."

I shook my head. "I envy you...for your inability to feel things that normal everyday people would feel. Emotions that would leave you tossing and turning in your bed at night or the joy you would feel when you are to be wed to a handsome lady. You don't fancy any women much less wanted a wife. In the end, you will never feel heartbroken if she were to leave you...or..." I gripped hard at my glass until my knuckles turned white. Where was this conversation going? My friend would surely be yawing at this pitiful speech that I was presenting. I gave a small laugh and waved my hand at what I have just started rambling.

"You envy me because I am, as you have stated in your previous works, a cold calculating machine. The brain with no heart. Do not apologise Watson for I did not see it as an insult but rather a compliment...and yet a curse." said he as his voice trailed off into a whisper.

Holmes sat up and, with his long strides, stood in front of the window as he stared hard at the barren streets of London with a shadow across his troubling face. He was not holding his pipe to his lips which was, for me, rather strange.

"I sometimes wonder as well, why is it that I can never feel the same way as any other man or woman would feel? You could argue that I was born gifted with powers that most people would ever dream of having. Yet, I would brood over these trifling things. I admit that, at times, I feel as if there is something....just not right about me. I enjoy the thrill of a case and the adventures and the details that it provides me."

He paused and tossed away the needle which will never be found again unless Mrs. Hudson start her morning cleaning tomorrow.

"I don't necessarily dislike striking conversations with other people about trivial things or attending social gatherings but....if it is not for the purpose of obtaining the required data for my theories to capture a criminal... then they are of no use to me. Why is that? I loathe human interaction but I find joy when picking up a new trail of scent from the criminals who lurk about in this restless city."

My head was starting to ease from the fog that was the result of too much wine and I listened to Holmes monologue with such a peculiar interest. Might it be the drugs that was making my dear companion suddenly trying to tackle the topic of human emotions? I looked at him, his back faced towards me with his old loyal purple dressing gown that fitted loosely on him. I could feel a sudden sadness and pity seeing him in such a state. Haggard, tired, confused. So utterly confused.

"Am I a freak, Watson?" He finally said aloud.

That very question nearly made me spit out my drink because his statement was pure horrific shock to me. For Holmes to say something as absurd as calling himself a freak was beyond something I could ever imagine. I stood up, placed the glass cup on the mantelpiece and walked over to him. When I finally stood beside him and placed a firm hand on his tense shoulder, he flinched from my sudden touch, he turned towards me with a face like those of a child. He looked at me with pleading eyes, like he was begging me for an answer that I knew, I could never give.

"Holmes." I said with a soft voice that hopefully would calm his straining nerves.

"The drugs are really-"

"I am a freak! Some sort of being with just a love for brainwork but could not possibly understand human affection and tenderness if his very life depended on it!" Both his hands were ruffling his combed sleek black hair while his eyes twinkled in the moonlight as if he had made a discovery from his chemical test. He smiled almost manically as I stood gaping in horror

"Yes! That must be it! Oh, I have been as blind as a bat. No wonder I turn to gruesome murder cases for entertainment or find relief in cocaine rather than settling down to start a family or some nonsense like that-"

" _Sherlock Holmes_!"

I yelled out his name in a fit of rage and frustration. His harsh words burned my heart to the very root and my ears were surely red for it felt hot from the insults he spouted out to himself. I hated it with all my soul. I grabbed him by the shoulders in my trembling hands while my heart was pounding like a race horse.

"Why is it then you enjoy my company?! You would let me join you in your blood pumping adventures when no one else would do you justice. You would invite me for a pleasant meal down at our favourite restaurants and you would talk for hours with me about the criminals we have seized with their elaborate schemes and blinds. You would talk, so happily about your new Stradivarius that you have purchased and the many concerts and operas we have watched in our leisure hours. Why then.."

I did not know what came over me. Possibly the wine or the immense admiration I would feel for my companion at times when his spirits were high. My eyes watered and I quickly blinked back the tears that were on the verge of spilling and I would never show my face in front of my lovely friend again if this scene continued any further. I cussed under my breath.

'To hell with the consequences.' I thought.

My head was turned away from him but both my hands still held tightly to the sides of his shoulder. My breathing became hard to control and it took every ounce of energy to continue my lecture with the voice of a broken hearted man.

"W-What I am trying to say, Holmes. If you can not feel joy or happiness from human affection. Why do you keep me at your side? If you find me a helpful service, then I am happy but if you no longer need me, then I shall leave." My hands fell from his shoulders and I refused to look at him.

I was ready to leave him. To leave these rooms of ours and never again enter for I have made a blunder which I can never undo.

"Watson. My dear, Watson." His low voice made my heart rattle in my ribcage. I found his fingers were under my chin and slowly he lifted my face so that he could see mine under the moonlight that came from the window beside us.

His expression was gentle. So loving did it looked that it took the breath out of my lungs. Those stormy grey eyes which I have admired for so long, looked at me with a haze of passion. Gingerly he wiped my tear strained cheeks with his soft hands. He brought my right hand to his lips and tenderly placed a kiss.

"I have made a terrible mistake. The worst I have made in all my life as a consulting detective. I fail to regard you as one of my most noble and loyal partner. Oh, how can I completely forget? The one man who I can be myself and the one man who I enjoy being with in all my lonely life."

I felt weak when I heard those words from his lips while his longs arms wrapped around my waist to pull me closer to an embrace. I hesitated because I knew this was a crime. A crime which I could not resist to commit.

"Holmes."

"Yes, Watson."

"For all that is love and good, please, do not call yourself a freak nor even give a thought about it. I will not stand for it! You showed me affection that I felt was not even worthy for me to have! You are all the praises that I have written and I would write heaps and piles more so please..."

I was bold and brave but this felt evidently reckless. I tipped my head forward to close the gap between our faces and eventually our lips met. A kiss. Would it be his very first kiss? I doubted it. How can a man like him not win the hearts' of millions?

His lips were thin and warm and the lingering scent of his favourite cigars was ever so familiar to me.

Holmes was speechless at first. I could see his face taking the color of scarlet around his cheekbones and ears. For a moment he stood there staring at me and I was beginning to feel the regret of what I have done. Suddenly, Holmes leaned forward for another shy kiss and this time I stood on my tip toe to straighten his awfully messy hair with my hand. A smile blossomed on the man's face.

"I am such a bloody idiot, Watson."

"Quite so." I let out a nervous laugh.

"John, my dear."

The sound of my Christian name that was uttered from Sherlock Holmes himself sent a shiver down my spine and I could not help but cover my face because I knew how ridiculous I would have looked in front of him.

"This feeling. I have not a single word to describe it. Are these the feelings you have felt for Mary?" He said as his hands gripped tightly to mine.

"Y-Yes. It is a fluttery feeling. You want to protect the ones you hold dear so that you will never see them suffer as long as you are still breathing."

"Then my objective is one from now on. To keep you away from harm and aid you from your tendencies to drink when you are in pain. To keep you closer than ever before because, John Hamish Watson..." He paused and his hand rubbed mine in slow lazy circles.

"... _I love you_."

I smiled, holding back the tears once more, then I laughed like a women whom she has just gotten engaged to the love of her life.

"I will do the same, my dear. I will do my hardest to pull you away from your black moods and old habits. Keeping you strong on your feet at times you need it the most. I am at your service when those dark days of unsolved cases were to engulf you. Most definitely I will make you a happy man because..."

"... _I love you, too, Sherlock_."

I brought my forehead to his and closed my eyes to savour in this closeness of each other.

That night was a strange night. I was drunk after the glasses of champagne and wine while my companion looked for paradise in his needles and drugs. The conclusion was an astonishing one. We might not even remember these moments in the morning for we were pathetic men who turned to different ways to heal our wounds.

I could not care less at that thought as long as I could feel his warmth beside me at that cold night.

 

-fin-


End file.
